


Fly me to the moon

by kimi_hana



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 08:37:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21455146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimi_hana/pseuds/kimi_hana
Summary: Just a rainy day in tangled up in the sheets with your love while soft jazz plays in the background.
Relationships: Arthur Fleck/Reader, Arthur Fleck/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 62





	Fly me to the moon

**Author's Note:**

> Don't know. Felt like writing a short drabble because I'm just vibing out, trying to not write my History essay that's due in 2 days. Also, I'm in a really soft mood. Lo-fi is the shit.
> 
> Also, this is my first work ever about any sort of comic-book-ish??? character. I hope I got the details correct. Do let me know if you have any feedback!

You don't remember how you ended up here. You don't remember what lead to this very moment. 

The last two weeks up till just now had all went by in a haze. You never recalled ever being so tired in your life. 

You'd been among the lucky group of people who were considered to be 'middle-class'- able to afford a relatively stable and decent standard of living in the crumbling city of Gotham, able to afford a few small luxuries to fulfil your own wants and desires. The love of your life, on the other hand, never had such luck as yours. How you got to even know him was by pure chance- he happened to be subsituted in for a shift at the last-minute at the children's ward in the hospital you worked in as a nurse. Had the usual clown-guy not suddenly gone off the radar, you don't think your paths would have ever crossed. 

You sighed as you nestled in further to Arthur's chest. "Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars..." the soft jazz in the background ebbed off gently into the dimness of the room.

It had been a hectic couple of weeks. A child in your ward had developed severe complications because of his illness after his surgery. You were no doctor, but you were practically tending to the poor child every few hours because the place was so understaffed. It didn't help that you had such a bleeding heart and cared for your patients more than what your profession required you to do. God, were you glad that his condition took a turn for the better by the end of last week. You were nearing the end of your teether.

The pittering and pattering of the rain against your windowsill had increased in intensity and frequency. Thank heavens you two were indoors. Arthur's legs slipped between your own, entangling themselves with your limbs as he sought comfort and warmth in your close proximity.

You weren't sure what drew you to Arthur in the first place. You two started talking after his short gig that fateful day. Well, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 started talking to him after his performance. It all began with your offer to get him some refreshments when he had finished. He politely declined but you insisted that he followed you to get some biscuits in the pantry. Too shy to say no, he shuffled behind you awkwardly while you tried to talk to him. Seeing as he seemed a little timid in his responses to your questions, you figured it would be easier to get him to open up if you did so first. So you rambled about yourself all the way to the pantry- what your name was, how old you were, why you were working at the hospital, some of your likes, dislikes, and all that jazz. He gave polite indicators that he was listening to you as you went on and on and at some point, he seemed to have relaxed a little bit more and begun telling you a little bit about him as you both sat down at a table while he ate his biscuits. His name was Arthur Fleck, he was thirty-two years old, he lived with his mother in the northeast section of Gotham, and he wasn't married. 

Your soft fingertips traced meaningless patterns gently into his strong forearm that wrapped around your waist. A stark contrast to the rough and calloused hands that pulled you closer to his chest. 

Maybe it was something in his eyes that drew you to him. You were a sucker for beautiful eyes so it was one of the first few things you noticed in a person. They were the window to the soul after all. You could tell a lot about a person just by looking into their eyes. Not intending to seem creepy, you gazed briefly into his eyes and you saw what seemed to be a sort of world-weariness in those beautiful green eyes. So hauntingly charming were they that you couldn't stop thinking about them and him. Being a highly intuitive person, you could immediately sense what torture he must have been through in those thirty-two years before you met. You didn't know what it was, but you knew he was a troubled man. And yet, those eyes reflected a deep-seated kindness- the kind incredibly rare to come across these days in the cold streets of Gotham. Throughout your friendship, Arthur had shown nothing but kindness and understanding towards you. He always made it a point to cheer you up or make you happy. You eventually learnt of his neurological condition and you strove to be more understanding towards him. You went to do your own research and found one of the few ways to help him during an episode was to reason with him in a calm voice or to change the topic to something less distressing. Other times, you would help him get away from the situation so he could calm down. You always knew that helping Arthur would be a tough job to do, especially since you weren't trained professionally to do so. And yet you persevered. There were times when you were worried a bad day that would trigger his meltdowns and episodes would finally send him over the edge of sanity. Thank God, he had refused to snap. Thank God, he was still here with you. 

Arthur leaned down, burying his face in your soft locks and inhaled the fragrant scent of your shampoo. You leaned into his torso, oh so emaciated, and pressed your ear against his chest where his heart was. Just stopping to listen to his heartbeat.

You don't know- don't remember- when exactly it happened. You just knew that over the course of the two years of getting to know him, you slowly, unconsciously, unwittingly, but surely, fell for the man. He always made you happy. But he was never always as happy as he hoped to be. It hurt your heart to see the person whose only desire was to simply make the world happy so downtrodden and sad. You wanted to do the same for him in kind. He deserved it. Deserved to be happy. And so a little over a year ago, you confessed your feelings for him. It wasn't easy, trying to figure out how to salvage your friendship if your confession had gone awry, and trying to find a way that wouldn't trigger an attack during the confession itself. (It happened anyway. He was just too overwhelmed with joy that you loved him back. You didn't know he had been secretly pining after you for a long while, too.) And it hadn't been easy, getting to this point in your relationship. Not that you two weren't already highly attuned to the others' needs, but it was still a delicate process, trying to help each other through your darkest days, when both of you had your own problems to cope with. 

At least either of you weren't alone now. Gotham was a rough place to be in. What a relief you two had found each other. What a relief you were real, by his side, here to stick it all through thick and thin with him. What a relief he was still here with you, that he loved you to the moon and back.

It was getting a lot more cooling now, with the rain full-out pouring outside the apartment. You closed your eyes as Arthur pulled the blanket over the both of you, his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful slumber while his breathing slowed as he, too, begun to drift off to sleep.

"I love you, Arthur," you mumbled softly.

"I love you, too," came his reply, the last thing you heard before sleep totally consumed you.

"In other words, please be true. In other words, I love you...."


End file.
